Gregor was sitting drowsily on his porch when this unidentified gizmo zipped noiselessly overhead. Ya-coozer! Invasion!
Gregor instantly knew it was a Fed drone, spying on him for no reason at all. He keeps up with current events and understands that Fed drones are the next big thing. He worried about this possibility for some time, so Gregor wasn’t too surprised. Now, it was here!
Gregor will not tolerate drones in his backyard, period. He believes there is some Amendment that should protect him from Fed drones. He did not take this incident lightly. He believes it’s just un-American to go flying these brutes all over our common airspace. He wants the Feds out of his life, now and forever.
Gregor made several telephone calls. He is not shy when it comes to protecting his privacy. But none of this mattered to the Feds. They just denied all knowledge of drones, spying, and Gregor himself. It was right out of the X-Files. Gregor is not Mulder. He’s not Scully. He can’t penetrate the inner workings of the Feds, at any level. He needed help, some powerful friends.
So Gregor decided to pull out the big guns.
Gregor did the very best thing that came to mind. He got his love child and spokesman to take on the Feds. Here’s a picture. Imposing, isn’t he? His name is Buford. That should tell you everything you need to know. But looks aren’t everything, are they? Buford is a renowned mathematician and field guide who lives in Orlando. His services are always available, for the right price. Of course, Gregor had that special love-child relationship that got Buford’s immediate attention.
Buford got right on the case, just like Mulder and Scully would have done. He was going to get to the bottom of the drone doo-doo, no matter what the Feds said. Denials meant nothing to Buford. No swamp gas would work on this puppy. He had those Feds scrambling for cover, right away.
To Gregor’s endless delight, the Feds paid strict attention to Buford. His loquacity must have been compelling. He also must have had some serious contacts with the Feds. Gregor had never known the Feds to cooperate with anyone, anytime, for anything. What a wollopy-bang pleasure!
Well, there was that rumor of a few Fed helper monkeys who ran afoul of Buford and vanished. Gregor dismissed this as the usual Fed whining and moaning. Someone hushed it all up. Some Fed, probably.
It wasn’t long before the Feds sent a representative to Gregor’s house to set things right. He was a nice emissary, Gregor thought. The little guy was carrying a letter of apology from a high-ranking Fed Helper Monkey, just to make sure all relations were properly restored. Here’s what the emissary looked like on the day he arrived.
Unfortunately, Buford didn’t see things the same way as the Feds. Despite Gregor’s protestations and pleadings, Buford ate the Fed representative, right there in front of Gregor and his curious neighbors. There was nothing left to salvage. Not a bone remained. He was all gone! Vanished as quick as a drone.
Gregor was embarrassed. Buford was not. He was smiling the whole time, just like Hannibal Lecter.
Well, the story has a happy ending. Gregor has not seen a drone since that day. Not even one. No one made a stink about the missing helper monkeys. Everything became very calm, just like it used to be before the Feds started snooping.
Gregor thanks Buford’s insight and tenacity for making this situation go away, hopefully forever. It’s obvious that no one, including the Feds or their drone people, will ever mess with Buford. Gregor is still a bit sad about the eaten emissary, but he’s improving every day.
Gregor will remember to call on his love child again someday, the very next time the Feds come messing around his place.
Buford is salivating.
Gregor lives here.